


Red Paperclip

by Sonamae



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen, arrest records, lying, past sex mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red paperclips mean you've been given a citation, so why are there three in Ratchet's file?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Paperclip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vienn_peridot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/gifts).



> Written for http://adhesivesandscrap.tumblr.com/

Ultra Magnus grumbled to himself as he looked over the Lost Light crew list once again, this time in the safety of his office and with the holo screen set up in thirds. He had Unread, Mostly Safe, and Highly Suspect on the top of each of the screens.

So far there was only one folder on the ‘Mostly Safe’ screen. That Folder belonged to Tailgate, and the only reason it was there was because Tailgate’s recent memory drive could easily be accessed, as well as his internal clock. He was possibly the least evil mecha on the silly ship, if only by the fact he was practically a newhatch.

Magnus flicked through the next file and frowned heavily, his face plates aching with his disapproval. How did anyone expect this crew to get anything done when so many of them were so out of line? His fans let out a long puff and a few flecks of dust blew out of the sides of his new desk. The sound of his frame rattling was the only thing keeping him from comming Rodimus to cite him for lying about new office equipment being clean.

‘Disrupting the work force.’ He could make that work right? No, no he needed to be less strict.

With a flick of his wrist his threw Sunstreaker’s file into the ‘Highly Suspect’ screen and then reached for a rag and spray bottle.

Ratchet’s folder popped up next on the queue for the Unread screen and he faltered. He’d almost dropped his rag when he saw the red paperclip icon poking out of the top of the virtual file. Red paperclips meant a citation. That meant an officer had given _Ratchet_ of all mecha a _ticket_.

Some mecha on Cybertron had the audacity to pull over _Ratchet_ and give the kindest… okay the most code abiding medic a _ticket_!

His anger outweighed his need for answers, so Magnus set the rag and spray bottle down to open Ratchet’s file.

Now that the file was open, there were three red paperclips nestled at the top of the ‘paper.’

 _Three_.

He decided to read over each one carefully. The first was ‘Disrupting traffic’, which sounded confusing because Ratchet of all mecha was the one altmode that had the right of way _every_ way. Ultra Magnus did a little digging and pulled up the report.

‘Mecha was parked in the middle of the road, refusing to let traffic by. Claimed there were wounded up ahead.’

Ultra Magnus groaned when he read the date. This citation was waved invalid because it was during war bombings, how was it still in his file? He did the barest amount of typing and cleared it.

The second paperclip was much like the same. ‘Running a clinic without a license and then claiming he had it back at his ‘other clinic’ in Iacon.’

The sound of typing was so fast that Ultra Magnus was worried he might have displaced his keys. Ratchet always carried his license with him, Magnus knew that as a _fact_. It was engraved into his inner armor, gosh golly it was engraved into every Medic’s arm! It was a right of practice, a right of learning the trade. The officer in question was a bot he knew was later dishonorably discharged from the force.

Magnus was happy to wipe that one away. These were all obviously just misunderstandings. This was perfectly understandable. These tickets were not enforced by the Tyrest Accord and were given under a false law, and so Ultra Magnus, as the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, had every right to fix any arrest records or citations he saw unfitting to that law. The opened up the last red paperclip and his smile dropped.

‘Indecent Transformation.’

That was all it said besides the date.

He stared at the screen and blinked. Then he blinked again. He reached up with both hands, rubbing his optic covers, reset them, and blinked again. The screen didn’t change, in fact it didn’t even flicker. His hand slammed the side of his helm where his receiver was.

“Paging Commanding Medical Officer Ratchet to Second in Command Ultra Magnus’ Office, I have an urgent matter that I’d need his advice and or opinion on. If anyone sees Commanding Medical Officer Ratchet, please direct him to Second in Command Ultra Magnus’ Office as soon as possible. Remember to tell him it’s urgent.” He hated to use the ship wide broadcaster, and he also hated repeating himself, but _honestly_.

Indecent Transformation?

 _Ratchet_?

Golly Goodness he needed to clean his desk.

\--

Ratchet sighed and knocked on Magnus’ doorframe. Every mecha on this stupid ship was going to be telling him Magnus needed him for orns now, if not out of polite kindness then out of a sheer need for a joke to circulate through the halls. Why couldn’t Magnus have just commed him? He had his fragging number, it would have taken two kliks.

The door opened and Magnus stood there, looking stern but frustrated.

“I can’t figure it out.” Magnus blurted before stomping back to his desk and staring at one of the three holoscreens he had pulled up. “I’ve pulled up records for that day and I’ve got nothing. No surveillance footage, no written documentation, _nothing_. This was cited before you’d even finished medical training.”

“Uhhh…” Ratchet blinked in confusion. Magnus glared at the screen and then waved a hand at the chair across from his desk. “What are you talking about?” he shut the door behind him and took a few steps into the room.

Magnus quickly flipped the screen around and enlarged it. “This.” He pointed at the red paperclip.

Ratchet blinked in surprise. “Is… is that my arrest record?” he asked in surprised delight. He hadn’t seen that in years.

“This is _not_ funny.” Magnus had to fight not to shout. “Why do you of all mecha have a red paperclip for _Indecent Transformation_ in your personnel file.” He looked like he was ready to pop an optic.

Ratchet bit the side of his glossa as he tried not to smile. He remembered that citation, it had been his first, and his favorite.

“You’re not going to like it.” He finally admitted, trying not to chuckle.

Magnus’ optics narrowed, his spinal strut ramrod and his voice dropping into that low anger he reserved for prisoners or hostages. “Did you flash a civilian?”

“Ultra Magnus!” Ratchet stood up straight and stamped his ped. This was meant to be funny, but that was pushing it too far. He should have told him the truth, but with a reaction like that he’d rely on his super power of lying on his peds. “How _dare_ you. Of all the things that you could have thought of, how _dare_ you. I would _never_.” Ratchet let out along vent, his fans cycling with his false anger. “I was in the prelims of medical school, I’d just started making friends and they decided it would be a great idea to leave me and several other new medics out on the fields after loading us full of high grade. We were wasted up to our optics and one of the mentors thought it would be funny to dare us to switch to alt mode. Not all of us could, but we tried, and then they made us walk or drive home.” When he finished he clenched his fists and let them go.

That was all a lie.

A very loud lie.

He’d just been young and flashed Pharma on a whim when they were flirting and getting charged with their touches, only _he’d_ been caught doing it first. So Pharma, or course, had joined in and they’d spent the night together in a waiting room while they were written citations. Afterwards they’re fragged behind the police station.

But like slag was he going to tell Magnus _that_.

He watched his friend look away, ashamed. “I… I was out of line, I will erase it.” His fingers settled on the keyboard.

“No,” Ratchet clenched one fist, then moved his hand so it could rub his arm, “leave it as a reminder. It helps me be better for the future, and maybe it can help others.” That was the heavily load of scrap he’d ever shoveled.

Magnus’ eyes sparkled in that way law enforcement does when you willingly turn yourself in.

“That’s a _wonderful_ idea. Maybe you can hold a seminar on reform-”

“Oh hold on, I’m getting a call from medical.” Ratchet hurried, another lie of course as he put a hand to his helm. “Yeah… yeah, okay I’ve got to go. Looks like Whirl bent something.” He hurried toward the door as he spoke. “We’ll talk about it later, okay Magnus?” his friend nodded, a warm smile on his face.

“I can’t wait.” Ultra Magnus closed the file and slipped it onto the ‘Mostly Safe’ screen.

Ratchet was a terrible bot.


End file.
